During WWII many men of my parent's family were called to serve their country. My uncle Bud was one of my mother's three brothers who was drafted into the military. He was married and had two sons the ages of Lila and I. Mama wrote to him many times a week as well as my brother Willis, her other two brothers Homer and Willard, and my cousins who were also serving in the military.
Uncle Bud came home on furlough just before he was to be sent to Europe. We visited him, Aunt Rose, Brad and Stan the night before he left for overseas. I vividly remember the sad farewell between him and my mother. As we drove home, my mother told daddy how hard it was to say good-bye to him, because she felt it would be the last time she would ever see him alive again. She was right; he was killed in the "Battle of the Bulge" a few months later.
Uncle Bud Clover gave his "all" at age 34, leaving my two cousins, Brad and Stan, without a daddy at such a tender age. Aunt Rose raised them to be great men by herself. His funeral was one I will never forget. It was a miserable cold January day in 1944. I was chilled as the icy rain fell from the darkened sky. I shivered from the cold as well as from feeling the loss of my beloved uncle. My two cousins huddled by their mama and all cried together, all numbed by their loss. Aunt Rose never remarried and lived many years longer as a widow.
I cannot remember the words spoken at the funeral, but I do remember hearing "Taps" being played at the end of his services. It was such a sad and mournful sound. Uncle Bud was and still is my hero for "giving his all" so that we might have a better place to live.
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